


Lost Boys

by WandererRiha



Series: Haunted House [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Gen, Haunted House, Remnants - Freeform, Selfe, kid brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-05 23:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10319981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Midgar may be in pieces, but at least Sephiroth's family is together again. However, having siblings so much younger than himself is more like being a single parent than an older brother. The military is a demanding life; one that's hard enough for one person without friends or family. Sephiroth and Elfe both struggle to find a balance between the city that needs them and their rediscovered loved ones.





	1. Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing events of both "Haunted House" and "Triage".  
> I guess this makes this the third installment.  
> Can I call it a trilogy now?

It took another week before communications were up and running in any useful capacity. Rufus had finally figured out what had caused the reactor to malfunction. Although she didn’t like it, Elfe was forced to admit that the reactor was a necessary evil. People needed light, and heat, and fresh food, and that required electricity.

Rhapsodos was back on his feet and was enjoying firing off all the orders he hadn’t been able to give while recovering. He could be pompous, but Elfe was painfully glad to have someone else to delegate the million-and-one things that still needed to be done.

“You’ve got enough on your plate, what with three young children and a sweetheart to nurse,” he teased. 

Elfe punched him hard- in his good shoulder, of course. She wasn’t completely heartless. However, he was edging dangerously close to the line that separated good-natured razzing from a bald-faced insult. Rhapsodos must have realized he was pushing his luck, for he held up both hands in surrender.

Sephiroth- now that he was awake- was doing well. Elfe had thought she might need to sit on him in order to keep him in bed, but he seemed content to rest. She was unable to visit him as often as she would have liked, but frequently found her father or Valentine along with his brothers gathered around Sephiroth’s bed. Despite spending weeks in a coma, he spent a great deal of time asleep. Elfe brought him a tablet and reports, and returned his PHS. This turned out to be a mistake as he soon began trying to give orders from his sickbed. It was Veld who confiscated these, insisting that he was not to conduct business until he could stand up without help. Sephiroth took this as a challenge and- perhaps because he had to- recovered in half the time Rhapsodos had required.

“Why do you have to do everything slightly better than me?” Rhapsodos complained, smile on his face, as Sephiroth walked into the operations room. The General smiled and turned to Rufus, who had called the meeting. Everyone who had either already been in charge or nominated into position had been assembled: Zack, Tseng, Vincent, Shears, Azul and his eldest son Weiss, Reeve, and Scarlett.

“So, Mr. President,” Sephiroth asked, “what did I miss?”

“Well,” Rufus began as Sephiroth took a seat next to Elfe and she shot Genesis a look daring him to make kissy faces at them. “We know why the reactor overloaded.”

“Really?” Elfe asked, intrigued. “What was the problem?”

“Turns out there was something missing, something we hadn’t taken into account because it’s been here for thousands of years.”

“Wait, you mean Jenova?” Elfe asked, confused. “How was Jenova making the reactor overheat?”

“She didn’t,” Rufus shook his head. “Jenova’s been feeding on the mako energy of Gaia since the time of the Cetra. We’d never calibrated anything without unknowingly factoring her into it. Now that she’s gone…” Rufus broke into a grin. “We’re running the whole damn city on only one reactor at just eight per cent power.”

Everyone stared at him, jaws dangling.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, “I still plan to honor my side of the bargain. I want to do away with reactors entirely. We shouldn’t be using the souls of our ancestors to heat TV dinners. We’re still working on a good replacement.”

Elfe nodded graciously, which seemed to surprise him. “Good. I’d appreciate a time table at some point. Five years, ten years, whatever. I recognize it’s not realistic to replace mako power overnight. However, I’d like to have a goal to work towards.”

Rufus nodded. “Okay, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Haven’t other reactors overheated?” Sephiroth asked.

“Our communication network is still limited,” Tseng put in. “We have indeed had reports of Kalm and Junon experiencing the same issue. We were able to send them a notice and instructions how to prevent it from happening again. We also issued a red-alert to the maintenance staff of other towns that have mako reactors.”

“What are we going to do with the other reactors in Midgar?” Elfe wanted to know.

“We’re recalibrating them now, just to make sure they don’t blow as well,” Rufus explained. “After that, we’ll shut all but one other one down. Since Reactor Zero is gone, the remaining reactor will be rerouted to Deepground so they don’t have to run on generator anymore.”

Azul nodded approvingly. “Appreciate that, Sir.”

“And then?” Elfe prompted.

“Then we’ll begin dismantling them, probably put the materials toward reconstruction in the rest of the city.”

“What about the other reactors in other cities all over the world?”

“Once we find an alternative energy source, we start an aggressive ad campaign. Mako is passe. The new renewable, non-planet-draining energy source is infinitely better; more efficient, and less money.”

“Any leads on that?” she asked.

Rufus shook his head. “Not yet. Something we haven’t completely ruled out is using mako in a different way; something that doesn’t involve processing and burning it.”

Shears looked skeptical. “How’s that supposed to work?”

“Well, one of the options we’re exploring is a variation on geothermal energy. Light mako gives off heat the same way electricity does. We could harness that and get energy out of it without incinerating our ancestors. Right now we don’t have a practical method, but like I said, it’s just one angle we’re pursuing.”

Shears nodded, appeased, and looked to Elfe.

“Alright,” she agreed. “We’re making progress as well. Surveying is still in process, but it looks like quite a bit of the city will be salvageable both above and below Plate. The broken sections allow for greater sunlight and airflow, but still allow for stable surface area. I’d actually suggest converting the standing sections of the plate into non-residential green space. Midgar doesn’t generate any of its own food, and the soil around it is so depleted there’s a ring of barren earth almost a mile wide.”

“Ingenious,” Rufus told her, a look of admiration on his face. “I like it. Make it so. Tell me, are any of the buildings on the plate safe for habitation?”

“The short answer to that is ‘no’,” Zack spoke up. “The standing portions of the plate are stable, but the buildings are more or less totalled. There’s a lot still standing, but so far none of them have been passed by the surveyors. They recommend knocking them down and repurposing the materials somewhere else.”

“Do it,” Rufus said with a nod. “Those with high rent will just have to make do. Can we give people the chance to reclaim their belongings, or was the looting too bad?”

“What’s still standing is mostly intact,” Zack confirmed. “I’ll ask if it’s safe for the residents to retrieve their stuff. We’ve managed to lock down most of the access points to the plate, making it off limits to everyone except the surveyors and construction crew. Looting hasn’t been too bad underplate, but that’s because there’s not really anything worth stealing. There are already SOLDIERs on a detail to keep the looting to a minimum.”

It went on like that, everyone giving their reports and offering suggestions. Even Elfe seemed to defer to Rufus, which struck Sephiroth as slightly odd. Then again, her only goal was to abolish mako power, and Rufus was already making strides toward that. Somehow he had expected there to be more things on fire. Then again, Midgar was in ruins. That had to count for something.

“Is this enough?” Sephiroth asked her once the meeting had adjourned. Elfe looked up at him, head cocked in confusion.

“Is what enough?” she echoed.

“This,” he gestured broadly at the busy, bustling street actively under repair. “Shinra, Midgar...me, my family. Is this what you wanted?”

She started at him for a moment, opened her mouth, thought better, then closed it again. Reaching, she took his hand and held it. Sephiroth fought not to grin like an idiot even as he watched the wheels turning in her head.

“No,” she said at last, and looked up to meet his eyes again, “it wasn’t. I never thought I’d be interested in more than burning Shinra to the ground because I was pretty sure that was what it was going to take to stop it. I never dreamed that Rufus would cooperate, that Jenova was guzzling more mako that the reactors, or that you had a soul and a heart.”

“Thank you,” he replied dryly.

“You know what I mean,” Elfe smirked, tugging gently at his hand. “I’ve asked myself the same thing a hundred times a day ever since we joined forces, and I can’t decide if I’ve just got way better diplomatic skills than I thought, or if I’m selling out.”

“What does Avalanche say?”

“I...was honestly expecting them to pitch a bigger fit about it,” Elfe admitted. “Sure there’s a couple of people who aren’t happy about Shinra, about us, but overall they’ve been remarkably laid-back about the whole thing. I guess killing an alien space parasite and seeing the Lifestream rise up along with a couple of forces of nature with their own eyes puts things in perspective.”

Sephiroth nodded quietly, squeezing her fingers briefly. Her had was so small compared to his; had disappeared within his gripe, yet there was unmistakable strength even in the hand without Zirconiade. 

“Indeed,” Sephiroth agreed. “Elfe...I’m afraid I’m not much use when there’s not a battle raging around me. We’ll still be fighting, but without swords, and that sort of conflict I’m not very good at. I know we said we’d attempt a relationship once Jenova was gone, but…”

The look on Elfe’s face was one of hurt, but quickly morphed into steely-eyed anger.

“Sephiroth-- ” Elfe began, jabbing a finger at his chest, but stopped short. “I have no idea what your last name is.”

Neither did he, to be perfectly honest. According to the files Vincent and Veld had uncovered, Hojo was his biological father, but he’d be damned if he was going to take the old bastard’s name.

Wait.

Bastard.

He’d been an unplanned pregnancy; his mother expecting when she’d married the Professor.

“Crescent,” Sephiroth told her, liking the taste of the name on his tongue.

“Oh. Good.” Elfe began again, drawing a deep breath. “Sephiroth Crescent, you are _not_ getting rid of me that easy! If you think I am going to walk away now that we finally have half a chance to interact when one or the other isn’t in mortal peril, you have another thing coming. I am not afraid of what Avalanche, Shinra, or the general public thinks. I am not afraid of your fans, your brothers, or _you_ , so you can stop with the greater-good routine right now.”

The top of her head was barely even with her shoulder, but Sephiroth fought the urge to take a step back. She was serious, but not necessarily angry. Annoyed, no, exasperated. He couldn’t really blame her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, forcing himself not to rub at the prickles rising on the back of his neck. “I did warn you I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Elfe smiled. “That’s okay,” she assured him. “Neither am I. We can work on it together.”

Taking his hand in hers again, she stepped into his space. Of its own accord, his arm went around her shoulders as she rested a hand against his chest.

“You’re right, this wasn’t what I wanted,” she said softly, and Sephiroth held his breath, “but it’s what I want now.”

Tugging on his lapel, she pulled him down to touch her lips to his. A couple of whistles sounded, as did some excited hoots, but he ignored them. Let them look. Both he and Elfe were exactly where they wanted to be.


	2. Child's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth discovers that kids are a big commitment, but not as complicated as he feared.  
> For now, anyway.

Sephiroth found his brothers running around an old playground under Vincent’s watchful eye. Indeed, Vincent was among his brothers, actively playing with them. Despite Vincent’s kindness, this was not something Sephiroth would have expected of the older man. Vincent would have been of an age with the Professor, and for some reason Sephiroth had expected him to be somewhat distant. With the noted exception of Veld, Vincent tended to keep everyone at arm’s length. Evidently children also merited a special exemption.

Sephiroth wondered where and when Vincent had learned how to do this? Perhaps it was something one learned when raised by parents, among siblings, in a house. A “normal” life. Whatever that meant. Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj were running rings around Vincent, but he didn’t seem to care. He’d chase one, then the other, before all three of them mobbed him. At that point he would allow himself to be pushed to the ground and a tickle fight would ensue. Vincent usually won these by virtue of being able to stand up and therefore put himself out of reach of the children’s wiggling fingers. They’d taken it in turns to sit on his shoulders, to have him catch them as they tested their wings jumping off the sliding board. He made it look so effortless, so natural, as if he’d come into the world knowing how to do this. Maybe some people did?

For his part, Sephiroth was a bit confounded by his younger brothers. With a nearly fifteen year gap between himself and Loz, he was almost old enough to have sired them himself. He didn’t dislike them. They were absurd and amusing as children their age often were. However, he hadn’t any earthly idea as to what to _do_ with them. He could probably keep them safe, and clean, and fed, but outside of that he was completely at a loss. One could not command grade schoolers the way one did SOLDIERS. One could try, he’d been told, but it wouldn’t work very well.

“How do you do that?” Sephiroth asked him once Vincent had finally collapsed onto the bench with him.

“Do what?” Vincent, somewhat winded from so much horseplay, huffed.

“That.” Sephiroth gestured vaguely at the playground.

“What? Play with them?”

He nodded. “You seem to understand them, and they you.”

Vincent shrugged. “They’re kids. Kids aren’t complicated.”

Sephiroth was not sure he agreed. “Aren’t they?”

Vincent shook his head. “Not like adults. Children don’t lie unless they think they have to. They’ll tell you things to your face because they think you should hear what they have to say. They smile and cry by the minute because they can’t see any farther than that. But they love without thought or reason, especially if you love them back.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Love them.”

Vincent’s smile was kind, only a little sad. “Go see for yourself,” he said, gesturing at the three small creatures chasing one another around the various pieces of equipment.

Not at all sure about this, Sephiroth stood. Unhooking Masamune from her place on his back, he handed her to Vincent who took her and solemnly laid her across his knees. Feeling as if he were wading into battle unarmed, Sephiroth approached his little brothers. They were still too young to appreciate who he was, to understand the posters, the commercials, the endless, relentless deluge of propaganda. They had been told he was their older brother, but even this concept seemed nebulous to them. With so wide a gap, he was classified simply as yet another adult in their young minds, too big and too old to be counted among their number.

“Hello!” Kadaj greeted him.

“Hello,” Sephiroth replied politely. The other two had ceased their game and drifted over to him. All three looked _up_ at him, Kadaj leaning his head back so far that he stumbled back, nearly falling over. Unthinking, Sephiroth put out a hand to catch him.

“You’re tall,” Kadaj said with an air of one who has discovered a profound truth. Sephiroth bit his lip against a smile.

“I suppose I am,” he agreed, sinking to one knee in the sand. “Is this better?”

“Now I’m taller than you!” Loz exclaimed, using his hand to gauge the variance of height between his own head and Sephiroth’s. This was not strictly true as the boy’s hand had had to rise a good two or three inches in order to meet the top of Sephiroth’s own head, but he said nothing, only smiled.

“Wanna play?” asked Yazoo. Sephiroth nodded.

“All right.”

There was no rhyme or reason to their game, no rules that he could discern. Mostly it seemed to involve good-natured taunting, dares, and a great deal of shrieking. They each wanted him to repeat the exercise of play-flying they’d done with Vincent. Dutifully, Sephiroth caught them as they jumped from the top of the sliding board- the rusted apparatus was barely as tall as he was- and glided a few feet before gravity caught them and sent them tumbling into his arms, wiggling bundles of laughter and flapping.

On a whim, he swung Yazoo by both hands once he’d caught him, letting gravity turn them full circle before setting him down. The boy squealed and clapped once he’d been released.

“Again!” he chirped. “Again! Do it again!”

So he did it again. And again. And again. Stronger than Vincent, built to swing a sword into oncoming hordes for days without stopping, he caught and swung each child until _they_ grew tired. Their chase-and-tickle game didn’t work so well on him, he was too quick for them. It also made him a bit nervous that he might accidentally harm one of them. The instinct to simply react was strong, but these children were not attacking him.

 _Sparring_ , he kept reminding himself. _Sparring._

He was so busy being careful, he didn’t notice Loz until he’d locked his arms around his neck, his body landing with a thump on his back. Unable to completely reign in the reflex, Sephiroth jerked to his feet, only just remembering to grab the boy’s hands so he didn’t drop to the ground.

“Don’t do that!” he snapped over his shoulder. Loz just grinned and pinched Sephiroth’s sides with his knees.

“Fly me!” he entreated. “Please?”

The child wanted a ride, and Sephiroth would have happily obliged except…

Kneeling, he unwound the little arms from his neck, and set the boy on his feet.

“Some other time,” he promised.

There was a trio of dejected moans of disappointment.

“Why not?” Kadaj asked. Sephiroth looked into each small face, at the brilliant green eyes with wide, round pupils, innocent and uncomprehending why he would deny them this treat.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked, drawing them closer. All three of them nodded.

“I got my wings the same time you did,” he confessed.

“When you were little?” Kadaj asked. Sephiroth shook his head.

“No, I mean I got them around the same time, about a month ago. I’ve never had wings before then. I don’t know how to fly.”

“You need to learn so you can teach us!” Loz pressed. “I want to learn to fly!”

“I think you may be grounded for the time being, son.” All of them looked up as Vincent approached and knelt down as well. “Hold out your wings. Sephiroth, you too.”

All four of them obeyed, and Sephiroth saw at once what Vincent meant. His own wings were massive, more than twice as long as he was tall. His brothers, however, had wings still much shorter than their bodies. This was likely a sort of safety feature supplied by either Nature, or their guardian summons.

“Your wings aren’t big enough yet to hold your weight,” Vincent explained. “You see how big Sephiroth’s are? You’d need to have wings as big again as you are in order to fly. I doubt you’ll be able to really fly until you’re older.”

The children heaved a collective sigh of disappointment. Sephiroth couldn’t help but sympathize, but was also glad this was one rule he wouldn’t have to truly reinforce. Physics would do that for him.

“We can still practice gliding,” he assured them. “It’s as important to know how to land as it is to fly.”

They perked up a bit at that, a trio of smiles lighting up around him.

“Alright,” Vincent said, straightening, “time to go in.”

Again, the children looked crestfallen.

“Uncle Veld will have dinner ready,” Vincent drawled, which brought out their smiles again. “Also, you haven’t shown your brother your new home.?”

“New home?” Sephiroth echoed, standing himself and reslinging Masamune across his shoulders.

“Felicia set it up. Well, she told Veld to set it up, and he roped me into helping. C’mon, I think you’ll like it.”

 

\--

 

Children could not live in a barracks. Sephiroth knew this without having to be told. Where he had been going to put his brothers, he had not been entirely sure. Thank Alexander Elfe had saved him the puzzle of finding appropriate lodgings for a trio of gradeschoolers. Quite a few buildings had survived the partial descent of the Plate unscathed. Families with young children were given preference as far as any solid dwellings without previous occupants. The inns and hotels Underplate were overflowing, as were the schools, hospitals, warehouses, sheds, and pretty much anything with four walls and a roof.

Despite being so close to the crater that took up the former city center, Old Midgar University had survived, as had many of the buildings around it. The University Arms apartments had been constructed by a previous generation; one that predated lifts. The boys didn’t seem to mind galloping up six flights of stairs in a breathless race toward the third floor landing. Opening the door allowed the delicious aroma of cooking food into the hallway.

“That you boys?” Veld’s voice called out from the kitchen. “Grub’s gonna be a minute, yet. Get the beds set up, why don’t you?”

“Sure,” Vincent agreed, ushering everyone inside.

The apartment itself was small and dated, with what the proprietor insisted were two bedrooms- despite the smaller room not having a window- and a single bathroom. The previous tenant had left some truly hideous furnishings behind; but retro furniture was better than none at all. More bits and pieces of disassembled furniture stood propped against the wall, making it a bit difficult to traverse the rather compact living room.

There was a full-sized bed with a ghastly chenille spread in the larger bedroom; a chunky desk and empty bookshelves in the smaller. Relocating the shelves proved there was, in fact, a window in the second bedroom. It wasn’t too difficult for Sephiroth and Vincent to wrestle the desk and shelves into the living room, and the bed into the study. Veld had procured a twin bed and a set of bunkbeds- Sephiroth did not ask where, some things were best left unknown- and these were assembled in the larger bedroom.

“How did you manage to secure this?” Sephiroth asked. “Or don’t I want to know?”

Veld grinned. “Let’s just say it had your name on it.”

“It’s perfect,” Sephiroth told him, and meant it. The apartment wasn’t that far from their current command center; so a decent commute by foot. Assuming he ever learned to fly, it would be even quicker. It was just enough space for himself and the boys, for now anyway. There would come a time in the not too distant future when all three of them could not be wedged into a single bedroom, but this would more than do for now. “Thank you.”

There was only just enough room for all of them around the dinner table. The kitchen bled into the dining area, which in turn spilled into the living room. Sephiroth found himself making a mental note to have the television turned off while the boys did their homework, no matter their protests, as it was easily in sight of the table. Gods, when had strategy mutated into paternal instinct? It wasn’t bad, just...strange. There were a hundred new and different details to be addressed where his brothers were concerned. Aside from the basics like food, clothes, and shelter, there was school, friends- they _would_ have friends, damn it, as many as they could manage- books, toys, and...his mind stalled. What had he wanted at their age? His logic blundered over material objects and then stumbled to a dead stop as he remembered.

Time.

As a child, he had desperately wanted someone to pay attention to him, to play with him. After Aeris had gone, and before Angeal and Genesis had come, he had spent his time almost completely alone. Professor Gast and Aunt Ifalna had fussed over him when he was very young, but they the had gone, and he could have sworn the next time he’d felt an affectionate touch from an adult had been when Lazard had patted him on the back. He’d been abandoned at five, and been enlisted at twelve.

A military career was demanding of one’s body, but moreso one’s time. With Midgar in a thousand pieces, he could work around the clock for the next ten years and still never be done. Besides the boys, Sephiroth had Elfe to think of now. He wanted to see her somewhere besides the office, as it were. Was she thinking these same thoughts? Would she carve out time for him as well? He hoped so. He’d have to speak to her about it to make sure their time off would coordinate

Looking around the table, the tableaux of his brothers, Veld, and Vincent was like a cross of the mess hall and the quiet dinner he’d shared at Strife’s house. Imagine coming home to this every night, or nearly so. He’d have to learn to cook more than simple campfire food. He could not expect Veld to become his personal housekeeper, however nice it would be to have both him and Vincent around more often.

As it turned out, they would not be far away. Veld’s investigative agency and the apartment above had also survived, and was only a few blocks away. With nowhere else to go, and with all available space taken here, Vincent would be staying with Veld. Sephiroth approved of this arrangement; it would be best for Vincent to be among old friends.

They took their leave after instructing the boys on helping to clean up the kitchen. This left Sephiroth at something of a loss. Loz rescued him, asking about the remaining books on the shelves in the living room. Most of them were not intended for children, but Sephiroth found a handful of large, brightly-colored volumes clearly made for a younger audience. Rather than have them fight over the book, Sephiroth took a seat on the revolting, pea-soup colored sofa and his brothers piled on either side of him. The springs creaked threateningly, but held.

“Once upon a time…”

Kadaj was asleep by the time he’d finished. They’d had him read three stories once each, and the one about a shy knight, a kind dragon, and a brave princess three times. They went to bed surprisingly willingly. Loz surrendered the top bunk to Yazoo, and Kadaj was tucked still unconscious into the remaining twin bed.

“Goodnight,” he told them, standing with his finger poised on the lightswitch.

“‘Night,” Loz and Yazoo answered sleepily. Sephiroth felt as if there was something more he ought to say or do, but could not think of anything. However, they did not seem to expect anything, Yazoo turning to curl up on his side, facing the wall. Smiling to himself, Sephiroth flicked off the light and shut the door all but the last inch.

Lying diagonally across the double bed- it was slightly too short for him- Sephiroth tried to reconcile it all in his mind. So much had happened. Across the crater, Elfe and Genesis were asleep in the barracks. Zack might be with them, or with Aeris, likely the latter. Veld and Vincent were just down the street. His family slept soundly in the next room. The walls around him belonged to him. For the first time in his life, he had a home. He could, Sephiroth decided, get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wonder, yes, that is Hojo's apartment.  
> No, Veld and Vincent didn't think Sephiroth needed to know that particular detail.


	3. Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elfe finds an unexpected ally.

“So...how do you fit?” Loz asked her, frank and tactless as only a child could be. “What are you to us?”

Everyone was still up their eyebrows in logistics, but with Sephiroth awake, Rufus had spent a lot of time parading him in front of the surviving citizens of Midgar. Sephiroth was well aware of his celebrity, and therefore submitted to being the star feature of a morale tour of the city. Consequently, Elfe had left off piecing the city back together to mind his brothers for him.

At eleven, eight, and six, the boys were old enough to more or less look after themselves. She was largely there to make sure they ate real food for dinner, and did not burn the apartment down. Loz had volunteered to help her put together their simple supper of rations. The stove was gas, not electric, so despite the power supply being hit-or-miss, they could still cook. Loz was taller and more coordinated than most children his age. As such, she put him to work without bothering too much about whether he might cut or burn himself.

“How do you mean?” Elfe wanted to know.

“Like, I know you’re a general too,” he began. “You command Avalanche. You used to be a bad guy, but how you’re not.”

Elfe couldn’t help feeling slightly insulted, but didn’t even blink.

“So how do you fit?” Loz repeated.

“I’m your brother’s girlfriend,” she said smoothly. Might as well get used to telling people. Loz blinked, surprised, but did not reply.

“Getting to know Sephiroth means getting to know the three of you,” she explained. “I’d help out anyway, but this is an extra reason to spend time with you.”

He nodded, processing that. “Are you gonna be our mom, then?”

Elfe couldn’t help but smile at the hopefulness in his voice. “Maybe.”

Loz grinned. “You’d make a cool mom. Would you teach us to fight and how to make bombs?”

Elfe grinned in return. “As your mom, I’d have to tell you not to play with sharp things or you’ll put your eye out, and remind you to eat your vegetables.”

They both laughed.

“I actually like broccoli,” Loz mused. “When are you getting married? Will I have to dress up? Will you have a chocolate cake? Can sit up front? I want to be able to see everything.”

Elfe couldn’t help laughing at the flood of questions. And here she’d been afraid they might resent her.

“I don’t know,” she said, giving his short hair an affectionate scruff. “We haven’t even gone out yet. Give him a chance to see if he likes me enough to put up with me for the next fifty years.”

Loz nodded sagely. “That _is_ a long time,” he agreed. “I hope he does like you that much. I want you to stay.”

Elfe smiled, and heard herself say: “I’ll stay anyway.”

Leaning forward, Loz latched his skinny arms around her in an unexpected hug.

“Good.”


	4. Favorites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys argue about titles.

Conversation, in Sephiroth’s opinion, best occurred incidentally. It was so much easier if there was some other business- training, a game, food, work- to take up the bulk of one’s concentration, leaving words to fit in here and there wherever they could. Like himself, if asked a direct question, his brothers would answer, but the replies were short and self-conscious, as if they were afraid of giving the wrong answer. Which they probably were. It wasn’t easy to set aside the air of authority that served as both weapon and armor. Like Masamune, without it Sephiroth felt naked and vulnerable. However, the only family he had left deserved to know him as more than just the Great General. Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj- as they preferred to be called- were only children. He did not want them to be frightened of him.

Loz, as the oldest, struggled to treat him as anything but another adult; a different sort of teacher or commanding officer. Curiously, he’d formed a much more casual bond with Elfe. Perhaps because she was less well known to him, or because she was female and therefore something of a novelty, Loz seemed much more comfortable around her.

Kadaj, in contrast, was heartily enamored of his eldest brother. Sephiroth got the feeling Kadaj would have followed him around all day if he’d let him. For some reason, he was mistrustful, even disdainful, of Elfe.

“Why don’t you like her?” Loz challenged his brother. “She’s nice!”

Kadaj had crossed his arms, and scowled. “She’s _not_ our mother.”

On this point he could not be moved, and seemed to take it personally that Jenova had died indirectly by Elfe’s hand.

Yazoo remained something of an enigma. Quiet and watchful, he said little, but nothing escaped his notice. He reminded Sephiroth a little bit of Vincent: observing silently, but never directly involved. When he spoke, he was always quiet and polite, but slyly cheeky. He certainly knew more than he let on. Whether he used this knowledge for himself or some other purpose remained to be seen. Loz and Kadaj dragged him into their argument, demanding his opinion.

“Well,” he began, carefully choosing his words, “I like Elfe fine. She’s pretty cool for a girl and a grownup, but you’re right. She’s not our mother.”

Kadaj smiled smugly, vindicated. “ _See?_ ”

“If she and Sephiroth get married, she’d be our step-mother,” Yazoo went on. “Not a wicked one, of course. That’s only in stories.”

Kadaj did not look convinced.

“She killed our _real_ mother!” he insisted.

“Kadaj,” Sephiroth chose to intervene, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That isn’t true.”

“It is!” Kadaj shouted, eyes welling up. “I could hear her screaming! Elfe hurt her and there was nothing I could do!” He sniffed, looked at the floor. “She used to sing to me… I would dream about her sometimes. Not anymore.”

Kneeling down, Sephiroth set both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Kadaj, Elfe didn’t kill Jenova. I did.”

Kadaj stared at him, stricken silent. “You’re lying,” he managed after several minutes. “It isn’t true! You wouldn’t! Mother said it was all Elfe’s fault! She told you lies, made you do wrong things! She made you crazy! It’s Elfe’s fault she’s dead!”

He was crying in earnest and Sephiroth gathered him close. Instinctively, Kadaj clutched Sephiroth’s shirt in both fists and hid his face in his shoulder.

“Elfe did not kill Jenova,” Sephiroth repeated softly. “Rather, she did not act alone. Alpha, Omega, Chaos, Zirconiade, Aeris, Elfe, and myself all helped to bring an end to her. I was told that Jenova was my mother as well, and for most of my life I believed it, but it wasn’t true. Our mother, our real mother, died a long time ago. Jenova...was trying to protect you, but she wasn’t telling you the truth.”

Kadaj huddled closer, more sad than angry.

“If Elfe wanted to hurt you, would she have gone to find you when you ran away? Or saved you from the Midgar Zolom? She brought you to me, just like she promised.”

“I want my mommy back,” Kadaj sobbed, his small voice muffled by the soft fabric of Sephiroth’s shirt.

“So do I,” Sephiroth told him, smoothing his back and thinking of Lucrecia. “I miss her too, but there are people here who love you: me, your brothers, Vincent, Veld, and Efle too.”

At this Kadaj looked up. Face red and splotchy from crying, he gave a skeptical sniff. “Elfe loves us?”

“Yes,” Sephiroth answered simply. “She brought you back safe. She gave you your dragons to protect you. She watched over you while I was ill. I believe she would have done that even if you were not related to me. That’s the kind of person she is.”

Kadaj thought about that for a minute. “I still don’t want her to be our mother. I want our mother to be our mother.”

Sephiroth smiled. “Well, she’d only be a mother to you in the same way that I’m a father: she’s just a lot older, and helping to take care of you. She’d actually be your sister-in-law.”

“Sister-in-law,” Yazoo echoed, rather unexpectedly. “Oh right. I knew that.” Or he felt he should have, if his mildly embarrassed expression was any indication.

“Do you think you could manage a sister-in-law?{ Sephiroth asked. “That’s assuming it works out between us.”

“Why wouldn’t it work out?” Loz wanted to know.

Sephiroth couldn’t help the brief flush of heat in his cheeks. “Love is a little more complicated in real life than it is in stories.”

Loz nodded, as if accepting a deep truth of the universe. “So...what should we call her?”

“Elfe?” Sephiroth blinked. “Whatever she likes, I suppose.” Normally children addressed their elders by their title- General, Commander, Doctor, Professor, Mrs., Mr.- but that would hardly do for Elfe or himself.

“Okay,” Loz agreed, apparently making a note to ask Elfe about this later. “What should we call _you?_ ”

Sephiroth shrugged. “You can call me by my first name. I don’t mind.”

Loz looked aghast. “I can’t call you by your name!”

It was a struggle to hold back the smile, but Sephiroth managed it. He’d experienced the same surreal feeling not so long ago. Somewhere around his early twenties, adults older than himself had begun to insist he address them informally by their first names. He still wasn’t completely used to it. His default was to address others by their title, or barring that, as “sir” or “ma’am” as the occasion called. In Loz’s mind, addressing the Great General Sephiroth without military honors was tantamount to blasphemy. Mostly, Loz had got around it by simply calling him “sir”, but that was too formal. Loz needed to see him as a fellow human, and not a hero of legend.

“Well,” he began, thinking aloud, “when I was in Wutai, people had a lot more titles and specifics added to their names depending on all kinds of different things: whether or not they were related to you, if they were higher or lower in rank, and so on. Among other things, boys in Wutai would call their older brothers ‘Oniisan’. Would that do?”

“Oniisan,” Loz repeated and nodded. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

The other two nodded agreement, and Sephiroth smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if the syntax or honorific is slightly off.  
> The "Oniisan" is a nod to all the early fanfic out there in which we tried and failed at using Japanese terminology correctly.


	5. Wendy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sephiroth finds he has something in common with his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually written back during the planning stages of "Haunted House".  
> I apologize for the anachronistic elements. I realize "Peter Pan" probably isn't a thing in the FF7 universe, but I couldn't come up with anything better.  
> So here you are.

Sephiroth did not understand fairy tales. They made no sense. It wasn’t the bits about magic, or faeries, or what have you. That part he could understand, they all could. What with having a Guardian Summon each in their own head, it was hard not to. No, what did not make sense to him was the sort of logic that strung these kinds of stories together. Why on earth would anyone wish for a child no bigger than their thumb? Who would trade a cow for a handful of beans, magic or not? Kadaj had more sense than that, and he was only six. And why the bloody hell didn’t at least one of the seven miners stay home with the runaway princess if they were so worried about her? The characters were constantly doing things that made absolutely no sense, and rather than cheering for the Maiden Fair and her Handsome Prince, he was left wishing he could reach between the pages and slap them both.

The boys had picked a different volume this time. Often he had to reread the same story night after night. While he didn’t mind, it did get a bit repetitive. Soon he’d be able to recite most of the tales by heart. This one looked promising. It started out sensible enough, but soon there was a child who could fly, and pirates, and a lot of other nonsense woven in. There were no adults on the magic island, except for natives and pirates, and he could see how that might appeal to a child. The faerie in this story, however, was not one of the helpful variety. He wondered why no one swatted her and had done? The Lost Boys, however, bothered him.

“So the lost boys built the house around her,” he read. Kadaj slumped in his lap a bit more, the tip of one finger in his mouth. “Wendy opened the door and let them in. All the boys cheered, ‘At last we have a…”

Sephiroth swallowed hard. He could not force the word out, the knot in his throat was too big, too tight. He could not breathe properly, every breath short, sharp, and seeming to bring no oxygen with it. Why did his chest feel so tight? Why did his eyes sting?

He felt the book lifted from his hands, a deeper voice picking up where he had left off though the words registered as distant nonsense in his ears. Vincent settled in the remaining space on the couch, holding the book at what must surely be an awkward angle so that the boys could still see the illustrations. Sephiroth paid no attention to it.

 _At last we have a mother…_ the words kept chasing themselves in a loop inside his head, like the skipping rhymes his brothers sang. _At last we have a mother…_

Except it wasn’t true. Sephiroth had only gotten perhaps ten precious minutes with his mother, their mother, but it was more than his brothers would ever have. They would not be raised completely alone as he had been. Alexander knew they had father figures aplenty in Vincent, Veld, and himself. However, there were no females in the house at present. The boys loved it when Elfe came over, and she seemed fond of them as well, but it was not quite the same. As much as Sephiroth wanted to spare his brothers the loneliness that he had known growing up, this was one thing he could not provide for them.

And that hurt.

The boys pleaded for another story, but Vincent shut the book and hustled them off to bed. Sephiroth managed to shake away the unpleasant thoughts long enough to bid them goodnight. There was a large window above the dining table, and Sephiroth went over to it. His own rather blank expression stared back at him, the interior light making the square of glass dark and reflective. Like the inside of his own head, he could not see past it.

“You alright?”

Sephiroth jumped slightly as Vincent laid a hand on his shoulder. Sephiroth tried to smile for him.

“Just thinking,” he replied, knowing it would do no good to tell the older man ‘nothing’. Vincent nodded quietly.

“You take good care of them,” he said.

“So do you,” Sephiroth returned, feeling Vincent was more deserving of the complement. Vincent shrugged.

“I wish they had a mother,” Sephiroth mused.

“They’ll have Elfe soon enough.”

Sephiroth could not fight the heat flooding his face. “I wish I had your confidence,” he said, rubbing at the prickles that had risen on the back of his neck.

Vincent cocked his head, confused. “Problems?”

“No,” Sephiroth admitted, “but it’s not as if we’ve spent more than five minutes together outside of work. I like her, she likes me, but everyone seems to take it as given that we’ll be married sooner rather than later. While I can’t say I object to the sentiment, I wish I had a bit more say in it.”

Vincent smirked, but the half-smile was kind. “You and Elfe are a political match that happily also has love behind it. You’re the closest thing Midgar has to royalty.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sephiroth groaned. “I know Elfe likes the boys, and they like her too. Even Kadaj has warmed up to her. However, I feel bad foisting three children on her that aren’t hers. They’re not my sons, they’re my brothers. She shouldn’t have to deal with them.”

“What if she wants to?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Sephiroth insisted.

There were so many things to be said, but Sephiroth left the space hang empty. However, Vincent seemed to understand.

“They need a mother.”

Sephiroth sighed heavily and nodded. “It’s the one thing I can’t give them. Nothing on earth could bring her back. With Jenova gone, she’s probably gone on to the Lifestream. I hope she’s at peace.”

The hand without claws patted his shoulder. Sephiroth placed his own hand over it and squeezed it briefly. He could confess his dreams to Vincent, tell him about the lullaby he’d heard all his life, that apparently his brothers had heard as well. Vincent would not laugh. He would understand. However, it was still too precious to share, and so he said nothing. Lucrecia was gone, but he had her memory, and now her picture to share with his brothers. It would have to be enough.

It was all they had.


	6. Family Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kadaj composes a picture of his family and a few questions are answered.

It had taken months, but the schools were finally empty of displaced families and filled with children once again. Many of the children were not as pleased about this as their parents. With the youngest members of Midgar’s population safely contained being educated for most of the day, their parents could focus more energy on restoring the rest of the city and a subsequent sense of normalcy. Sephiroth had had his secretary Kunsel find and file the necessary paperwork to first legally adopt, and then enroll Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj in school. It would be a new experience for all of them.

Sephiroth had not experienced public school himself, and Veld and Vincent were not familiar with modern education. Kadaj’s picture of his family was a breathtaking execution in mixed media. The students in his first grade class- all of which he was academically ahead of by at least two years, but perhaps a year behind socially- had been commissioned to depict their blood ties and loved ones on paper. What the other children had thought of the scraps of propaganda posters, wanted mugshots, and Kadaj’s own crayon-rendered impressions of those for which he could not find pre-existing images, Sephiroth could only guess.

Sephiroth, of course, cut the largest profile in the picture, his likeness painstakingly clipped from an old recruitment pamphlet. Elfe’s image had been extracted from the pages of an old wanted bulletin, her colored newsprint mugshot more striking than it had any right to be. His brothers Loz and Yazoo as well as himself had been doodled by hand in crayon, brightly colored and smiling, each a successive head taller than the other. Veld and Vincent had been represented as extended family, their black-and-white company photos rather anachronistic among the brightly colored poster cutouts. Curiously, Kadaj had also chosen to include Hojo- whose company ID photo was squeezed in near the edge of the paper. Equally strange was a rather stylized hand-drawn figure with long brown hair and wearing a white dress floating above the other figures. More disturbing was the little green death’s head with purple snakes for hair and grin full of sharp yellow teeth scrawled into a lower corner of the page.

“The teacher wanted to know which one was my mommy and daddy,” Kadaj had said, proudly displaying his masterpiece. 

“And what did you tell her?” Sephiroth asked, morbidly curious as to what the answer had been.

“Well,” Kadaj began, “that’s Jenova,” he said pointing to the small green skull. “That’s Professor Hojo, and that’s…” he paused, small finger hovering over the white figure. “I don’t know who that is,” he confessed, “but she used to sing to me sometimes when I slept.”

The logic clicked into place at last. Apparently Jenova and Lucrecia had been indistinct entities in Kadaj’s mind. Now his earlier belligerence toward Elfe made sense. Despite himself, Sephiroth smiled. He would more than likely be getting a phone call about this later.

“That’s your mother,” Sephiroth told him, pointing at the white figure. “She used to sing to me sometimes too.”

“So Jenova’s really not our mother?”

“...more like a step-mother,” Sephiroth hedged, not sure if six years old was sufficient to have _that_ particular mess explained. “Your mother, my mother, she died when I was very young. Jenova became our mother after her, but...she didn’t really know much about raising children.” It was probably the gravest and most grotesque understatement he’d ever made but again, Kadaj was still a child. Trying to explain the debacle of the Jenova Project to him now would only confuse and upset him.

“Okay,” Kadaj nodded solemnly. “So who’s our daddy?”

“Professor Hojo,” Sephiroth said, tapping the page. Kadaj took the news much as Sephiroth had.

“No way! He was old, and creepy, and he smelled weird!”

“I don’t disagree,” Sephiroth replied, fighting back a smile, “but he wasn’t always like that.”

Kadaj did not look as if he believed this. “Really?”

“Well, look.” Taking him by the hand, Sephiroth drew him into his bedroom and over to the framed photo he kept on the nightstand. Picking it up, he put it into Kadaj’s small hands.

“That’s our mother and father when they got married. Our mother’s name was Lucrecia, and that’s Professor Hojo.”

Kadaj studied the photo for a long moment. After several minutes he looked up and asked: “Where are they?”

“They’re both dead,” Sephiroth told him gently, dropping to one knee so that they were nearly eye-to-eye. “Our mother died a long time ago, when I was very young.” Kadaj did not need to puzzle over the wonders of in-vitro fertilization at the moment. “Professor Hojo…” This was a thornier problem. “He was old and sick,” Sephiroth said at last, settling on a half-truth that would have made Vincent proud. “He died from his illness.”

“Am I going to die?” Kadaj’s eyes were wide and frightened. Of their own volition, Sephiroth’s arms gathered him close.

“No, Kadaj,” he told him, resting his cheek on the boy’s hair, “not for a long, long time.”


	7. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent decides to take a more active role in things.

This could not continue. Sephiroth was doing his best, anyone could see that he loved his little brothers wholeheartedly and without question, but raising three young children alone was a tall order. There was more than one person in Midgar who was convinced they were actually his sons, and really they might as well be. Sephiroth had become a father to his younger siblings, and despite being thrown head-first into the role without any prior knowledge or experience, was doing a marvelous job of it. Fortunately, he did have help. 

Vincent had done his share of looking after the three of them, and it wasn’t easy to admit that it had been some time since he’d had to keep tabs on his own younger sibling. One little brother to corral had been more than enough when he was barely more than a child himself. Chasing after three made him feel more like the fifty some years of his chronological age. Veld, by contrast, preferred to keep a looser eye on the boys, only intervening when imminent injury or conflagration was an issue. Then again, Veld had some experience in caring for children. Indeed, his own daughter often did what she could to help. The boys adored Elfe, and insisted on calling her “Sis” despite a lack of formal family ties, although Vincent personally didn’t think that would last much longer.

Elfe was the lone female presence in the house, and she wasn’t there all the time. While Vincent and others had speculations that this would not always be the case, it was perhaps unfair to expect her to jump into caring for three children who were not her own. She would never complain, object, or even ask for help. In that respect she was every bit as bad as Sephiroth was himself. Neither of them would ever admit that a full-time job commanding troops, piecing Midgar back together, and raising three very active little boys might be too much for just one, or even two people. Even if Sephiroth and Elfe were to tie the knot tomorrow, it wouldn’t truly solve the problem.

Sephiroth had been raised largely as an orphan; Vincent’s own mother had died when he was still fairly young. He’d known abstractly that raising his brother and himself alone had been difficult for Grimoire Valentine. He had done his best, and while they hadn’t always agreed on every point, Vincent had no doubt that his father had loved his children. Why he had never remarried, Vincent did not know. Perhaps Grimoire had still mourned his wife’s loss in his own private way, maybe he’d felt no need to find a caretaker for two boys who were old enough to more or less see to themselves, then again, perhaps he had simply been too busy? Either way, Vincent did not want Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj to grow up as he had: helping to support rather than being supported by a loving yet over-worked and overwrought single parent who could only be in so many places at once.

He had an idea. A stupid, mad, reckless idea. Which was why he did not tell Veld, didn’t ask Sephiroth. Instead, he braved the clinic that served as the local hospital and sought out the little nurse that had helped him back at the Corel prison.

“Oh hello Mr. Valentine,” Shalua told him pleasantly. “I didn’t expect to see you today. Everything alright?”

“Yes,” he said shortly but not discourteously. “I need to ask you something.”

“About what?” she asked. “Must be important to get you inside a hospital.”

He returned her gently teasing smile with a shy one of his own. The clinic lobby did not unnerve him, nor did the medical staff going about in scrubs and white coats. The building was new enough to its purpose that the wood and stone did not yet carry the medicinal tang of a hospital. So long as no one came at him with syringe or a scalpel, Vincent was reasonably sure he’d be fine.

“I need to know about mako poisoning,” he said, feeling it best to get straight to the point. “How long can a person survive suspended in mako? How long would it take them to come to their senses?”

“I...am not sure,” she replied haltingly. Adjusting her glasses, she thought about it for a minute. “I guess it would depend on the extent of their injuries. Most people are put in mako suspension because mako accelerates healing, but slows the body’s other processes.”

Vincent nodded, knowing plenty about that. “So they’d be healed, just senseless until they were brought into fresh air again.”

“In theory, yes.”

“How long would it take them to dry out?”

Shalua exhaled, performing mental calculations. “Well, standard treatment is not more than three to five days submerged, depending on injury. I’ve heard of SOLDIERs spending more time in a tank, but they’re not exactly the best way to measure mako exposure.”

“No,” Vincent agreed, deadpan. “What’s the ratio for most people?”

“Well, it’s a pretty extreme procedure,” Shalua began. “You’d have to be in critical condition to even be considered for mako therapy. For an ordinary person, it goes by halves after twenty-four hours. One day submerged in mako won’t do much, it doesn’t even require the patient to really sleep it off, as it were. After forty-eight hours, however, it takes about twenty-four hours to shake off. Three days, a day and a half; four days, two days; and so on.”

Half of thirty was fifteen. Even Kadaj would be a man grown by then. Still, he had to try.

“What if they carried a summon materia in their body, like me?”

Shalua shrugged and shook her head. “Then all bets are off. I have no idea. Could be immediate, could be months.”

Then there was yet hope. It was just possible it would not take years for the mako stasis to wear off. Even still...

“Why do you ask?” Shalua’s question cut into his thoughts, making him look up sharply.

“I...found something,” he began awkwardly. “Someone. Still alive, submerged in a mako fountain.”

Shalua’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? When? Where?”

“Recently,” he said evasively. “I didn’t take immediate action because I didn’t know if I’d be doing more harm by fishing them out.”

“So you left them where they were?”

“Yes.”

“Did they have any signs of injury?”

Vincent shook his head. “Not outwardly, but I’m no doctor.”

“Could you take me to them?”

This he had not expected. Then again, offers of help were rare enough for a Turk. Each one still came as a mild shock.

“I...suppose so…” he stammered. It would be nice to have a medical professional along, but could he carry two people, even if they were both as small and slight as Shalua?

 _We can,_ Chaos’ voice echoed in the back of his head. Well then.

“Good,” Shalua was still talking. “I can make a preliminary diagnosis, help get them to treatment.”

Vincent nodded. “Thank you. It’s just...traditional medicine may not be enough.”

She tilted her head to one side, confused. “Why not?”

“I have reason to believe they were exposed to Jenova.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding in understanding. “So they don’t have a summon materia yet, but they’ll need one.”

Vincent nodded. “Exactly.”

 

\--

 

Where he was to _get_ said summon materia, Vincent had no idea. They were one of precious few materia types that could not be bought. While Sephiroth and the other SOLDIERs and Turks had an impressive collective inventory of the red stones, and Vincent had ready access to said inventory, none had called out to him. Vincent wracked his brain, trying to remember the names of some of the more obscure guardians, Chaos filling him in on the titles of several cousins and siblings, but again, none stood out to him. What summon would best befit someone so special? Someone who had given life to the Great Sephiroth and a trio of children whose guardians were dragons?

It might all be moot, however. As much as he hated to admit it, his reunion with Lucrecia might well have been a dream, but he didn’t think it had been. The silence in his head was proof of that. He hadn’t imagined it, meeting Lucrecia had been real. Whether or not she was still inside the waterfall cavern, however, might be another thing entirely. If not, then at least Shalua would know what it was like to fly.

Chaos could take over in full if he really wanted, of that Vincent had no doubt, but he’d not pushed the issue since the last time they’d been inside the cavern. At present, channeling Chaos resulted in a sort of hybrid of their physical forms- larger and bulkier than Vincent was himself, but considerably smaller than Chaos in all his grim majesty. Shalua had been somewhat alarmed at first, but had gamely climbed onto his back and held on tight as he leaped into the pale spring sky.

To him, it didn’t feel like a long flight, but Shalua was shivering and more than a little windburned when she slid off his back and onto the narrow ring of grass and rock surrounding the lakebed. Although he would have liked to go straight in, she clearly needed a moment to rest and warm up. Transforming might not hurt as it once had, but it still wasn’t easy. Shrinking back to his usual size left him shaky and lightheaded. Shalua had very sensibly packed some food, which she shared with him as they both took an hour or so to rest.

Shalua clicked on a flashlight once they’d ducked behind the waterfall and through the narrow crack that served as the entrance to the cavern. At Chaos’ warning, Vincent took her elbow in his right hand.

“Mind the puddles,” he told her. “They may not look like much, but they’re each a mile deep.”

“Noted,” she replied warily, edging a bit closer to him as they walked.

The beam of her flashlight across the crystalline stalagmites splashed rainbows on the floor and walls, dots of light and color dancing wherever she pointed. Chaos’ memories led them toward the back of the cavern, between puddles and around crystals toward the mako well.

“This is all dark mako…” Shalua whispered, a note of fear in her voice. “You didn’t say the mako pool was stagnant.”

“That’s because it wasn’t and isn’t,” Vincent told her. “Dark mako isn’t malignant, it’s quiet. The souls of the freshly dead aren’t any more or less evil than those ready to be reborn.”

“If you say so,” she replied, sounding somewhat less than convinced.

“I have the Lord of Entropy in my head,” Vincent told her with a sidelong smile. “Trust me on this.”

That made her smile, but Vincent felt his own face fall and he stopped short, Shalua bumping into him. The mako well was there, but the enormous materia formation was gone. It had shattered. A few individual spears poked up from the deep purple depths, but that was all. The surface of the well appeared flat and shallow, perhaps no more than a few inches deep.

“I don’t understand…” he said softly. “It’s gone. _She’s_ gone.”

“Is that her?”

Vincent started and turned, squinting at the reflection the flashlight’s beam made on the surface of the well. Dropping Shalua’s arm, he stepped forward. “Stay here.”

Two steps into the ankle-deep mako, he remembered what had happened the last time, but reassurance from Chaos told him it was safe to go forward. Shalua shifted the beam so that it was shining on his back and not on the liquid, which made it easier to see what he was doing. Just below the surface of the knee-deep mako lay Lucrecia. Although her jewelry was still intact, the yellow ribbon had vanished, her hair and the remains of her shroud drifting gently in the current.

 _Lucrecia?_ he thought, but got no answer. Kneeling down, he carefully eased one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, and slowly stood. She should have been heavy, waterlogged as she was with mako, but she was feather light. Shaula lowered the flashlight, apparently unpacking her kit, leaving Vincent to navigate his own way back in the darkness.

A small camp lantern sparked to life, glowing like a tiny star in the gloom. By its light Shalua unpacked the backpack she’d brought, laying out a beach towel and a smaller mat on which she began to organize a variety of medical tools. Taking a moment to drip dry, Vincent sloshed over and gently laid Lucrecia on the beach towel.

“Like you said, she looks okay from the outside,” Shalua remarked, gently patting Lucrecia’s pallid skin dry with another towel. “I don’t see any outward marks or signs of trauma. Then again, if she was subjected to Jenova, that might explain why she was in stasis in the first place. What was she, one of the female SOLDIER candidates?”

Vincent shook his head and crouched down next to her, unfolding one of the sheets. “No, this is Sephiroth’s mother.”

The stethoscope fell from Shalua’s hands with a metallic clatter that echoed deafeningly in the otherwise silent cavern.

“ _What?_ ”

“This is Dr. Lucrecia Crescent,” Vincent repeated, “Sephiroth’s mother.”

Shalua stared at him for a long moment, eventually managing a bewildered: “But she’s so _young!_ ”

Vincent shrugged. He had not planned on sharing this particular piece of information with anyone but… “She’s only a year younger than I am.”

Shalua blinked.

“I also spent a lot of time in a mako pod,” Vincent said by way of an explanation. “I may not look it, but I’m fifty-four, almost fifty-five.”

“Holy carp,” Shaula remarked, shaking herself and returning her attention to Lucrecia. “Neither of you look more than late twenties, early thirties tops. Well, her more than you. No offense, it’s just harder to put an age to you.”

“Part of that is Chaos,” he said, “I think the other half is enough mako to pickle a king behemoth.”

“So...you’re really old enough to be my father?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

“How?”

He just looked at her. Cheeks flushing scarlet, Shalua focused more intently on her patient.

“Sorry,” she said, not looking up, “I’ve been told before that my curiosity will get me into trouble.”

Vincent shook his head. “It’s alright,” he told her. “I’m not angry, I just...don’t have a clear picture of what happened myself.” It wasn’t a lie. Even after opening his mind, his sense of self to Galian, Gigas, Masuka, and Chaos, their shared memories still had a couple of blank spots. He still had no idea how long he’d spent in the lab, or how many years he’d lain in the box.

“So...how do you know Sephiroth’s mom?” she asked, evidently hoping the question might be a bit safer. She handed him an extra towel and Vincent took it, kneeling down to sponge the worst of the mako from Lucrecia’s long hair.

“We were friends,” he said quietly. “Later, we both went to Nibelheim as members of the Jenova Project. There was...an accident. Several actually. Long story short, I was injured and wound up spending time in the Shinra science department. They must have forgotten about me because several years later, Sephiroth and his friends found me. It was a bit of a shock to realize almost thirty years had gone by.”

“And what about her?”

Vincent shrugged. “From what Sephiroth’s told me, she died giving birth to him. That’s what he was told anyway.”

“But you think she might still be viable?” Shalua asked.

“My injuries were worse, and I’m still standing,” Vincent said by way of an answer. Sitting back on her heels, Shalua contemplated Lucrecia’s inert body and nodded.

“I guess it’s possible,” she said after several minutes. “We won’t know until we can get her back to the hospital and run some more extensive tests.”

“So there’s hope?”

Shalua smiled for him. “Maybe.”


End file.
